


Mechanical Rebirth

by LoathsomeSinner



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Eye Trauma, Forced Cyborg, Gen, Medical Procedures, POV Second Person, Surgery, loss of self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoathsomeSinner/pseuds/LoathsomeSinner
Summary: Following a promise of quick, easy money goes wrong.





	Mechanical Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EffingEden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/gifts).



Perhaps they hadn't been as legit as you'd insisted they were. The thought whirled confusingly through your head as you were wheeled through the corridor, the lights on the ceiling refracting in your vision.

Somehow you doubted your friend was going to have the chance to say 'I told you so.'

You feel like you are flying as you get wheeled along, the sound of the table and the chatter of the doctors floating in and out of concentration. They look like blue blobs in the corners of your eyes, the medical smocks confusing their forms.

There's a bang as you go through the doors. Everyone seems to be in such a rush, and you can't tell if it's the drugs just making everything so much more impossible to process. But they seem excited.

“Start the transfusion.”

Those words get through, and for a moment your vision centers on what looks like an IV bag. But instead of clear fluid, or even blood, it looks black. Sometimes glints of silver flash within it, reminiscent of glitter. Whatever is in there you don't want in you, and you try to pull your arm away as they reach for it.

And oh god that needle is so big.

But they grab your arm, holding it down as if you were just a child. And it goes in, and you _feel_ it. How could you not?

But worse than the needle is the feeling of the liquid (how could something that felt like that be a liquid?) course into your veins. You can feel it moving, unnaturally fast, shooting up and down your arm. 

Your whole body convulses when it reaches your heart, feeling all at once like an electric shock and stabbing pain and then a strange, tingling sensation wherever it had been. But whatever it was doing, it wasn't killing you. They string up another bag, the first somehow already empty. 

“They're responding perfectly, full map should be ready in approximately 3 minutes.”

The voice causes you to turn, and you can just make out a screen. There you can _see_ it as well. The screen lights up in a display as your body slowly comes into view. Only your arm and part of your chest so far.

But it's moving. And you can watch it as well as feel it as it moves up towards your brain.

You start to struggle. Your body is feeling clearer, less unwilling to listen to your instructions, but the restraints they'd used to tie you to the operating table were too strong. Far too strong.

Your entire world blots out for a few moments when it hits, lost in color and sound and the overload of every sense you have. When the world comes back its brighter, clearer, and you can feel _everything_. Every millimeter as it continues to push through you.

You can see the screen in perfect detail now, you can make out the numbers and letters on the other part of the screen, though you don't understand what they mean. You can hear every word the doctors say, even if they're as much babble as the words on the screen. You think, when you listen, you can hear their heartbeats as well.

“Full map in 30 seconds, vital signs showing strong. Neural integration is a success.”

You can feel the triumph in the air, and it is not a relief to you. Whatever they were doing, they hadn't even been sure it would work.

You convulse again as it finally finishes spreading through you, and a surge of _something_ goes through your body like electricity. With all of your body infected with the black liquid something clicks into place, and your body practically buzzes with energy.

“Full map is complete. Ready for phase two.”

You thrash again, hoping the strength you feel in your muscles might translate to something worthwhile. But the restraints hold, just as solidly as before.

You start to scream and yell through the gag that has held you silent through all of this. It sounds loud to you, but not overwhelming, as if not only your senses were increased but your _tolerance_ for them as well.

They ignore you as they wheel over a tray. You don't recognize half the instruments there, but the ones that _do_ look familiar only increase your panic. A couple of the doctors come closer, placing your head in even more restraints. Soon you cannot even turn your head, though your eyes still dart around as much as they can. 

Your eyes are caught when you see them lifting a pair of small metal... things. There's nothing you can do to pull away, and you're helpless as they pull your eyelids open, and their function becomes clear. The hooked pieces of metal slip in under your eyelids, making it impossible to close them.

It feels like they're burning already, even though they've only been held open for a few seconds. You try to speak again, your pleas blunted by the gag, unintelligible. The fact that you're sure they would ignore you anyway doesn't exactly make you feel better.

You can't even make yourself look away as a doctor lifts a pair of scissors, and you scream again as he comes closer. But some self-preservation instinct keeps your eyes from moving too much, and you find yourself staring at a fixed spot, distracted by the sudden pain as he begins cutting.

There is nothing you can use as reference to describe how it feels. The pain is sharper than anything you've ever experienced. Clearer, singing through your whole body, but the source of the pain is obvious down to each nerve. You feel it as you lose control of your eyes, the muscles that move them around severed one by one.

Then there is a _pulling_ , and something that was never supposed to leave your body pops out. They waste no time cutting the nerve, and you're almost glad. Being able to see through the eye that was pulled out of its socket was disorienting, nauseating. 

Half of your vision is gone, and within moments so is the rest, leaving you in darkness. The pain is still there, singing out from each of the severed nerves and muscles, and you see random sparks of color in the nothing as your brain tries to understand what has happened.

You can hear them talking still, moving around, and then you feel something pushed back into one of the gaping holes. It gives, then settles, filling the space much like you imagine your eyes did. Though you can't understand what use the replacements will be. 

The second goes in as easily as the first, and the doctors begin speaking excitedly again. You hear tapping of a keyboard, and then...

Something is moving inside your eyes, and you jerk as you feel unexpected sparks.

“Optic nerves have connected with the implants. Initializing in 3... 2..”

They hit one and suddenly your world is static and color. You get that feeling of overload again, but it passes just like the last. And then you can see again.

It was exactly like being in a video game. You can see text, clear and easy to read, in one corner of your vision, though it is incomprehensible code similar to what had been on the screen. Words and numbers flash without giving you a chance to _think_. There is other information, all spread out on the edges of your sight but somehow perfectly easy to read. 

It occurs to you that this is perhaps not something you are actually _seeing_ but information being relayed directly to your mind.

What you can see, however, is beyond clear. You find that your vision adjusts to anything you look at seamlessly, and if you focus you swear you can even make yourself look _closer_ , your vision honing in like a camera.

There is a wave of deep nausea as you try to adjust to your new vision, and they don't even give you the time to do that.

“Switching to infrared.”

Everything changes again, and the world is full of color. You've seen it before, on TV, but now it was everything. The lights are colder than you would have expected.

Over the next few minutes they switch and switch, going to different types of vision, making your stomach twist and turn as you perceive the world in ways you couldn't have even imagined before. You find that you can still cry, but with your eyes forced open like they are it does nothing to blur what you’re seeing.

Eventually they seem to be done, and they finally removed the pieces of metal from your eyes, letting you close them in denial. The numbers and letters are still there, and you wonder how you're ever going to sleep again with them distracting you. You wonder if they're going to _let_ you sleep again.

Suddenly the surface you are on is moving, and you let out a soft whimper, keeping your eyes tight shut. You don't want to see what's coming next, not with that perfect fucking detail you can see with now.

It moves until you are almost vertical, the restraints keeping you in place. You can hear them pull back a panel from behind your head, exposing the back of your neck. You feel a chill as there's a buzzing sound, and you flinch as something touches skin. A moment later it becomes obvious what they're doing, and despite yourself you feel a moment of relief, though it is brief. They're shaving off your hair, and the chill air makes your newly exposed skin tingle. 

The pain comes unexpectedly, a sharp blade digging into your neck, right at the base of your skull. That perfect clarity remains, and you can feel the I shape they are cutting in. Worse, somehow, you can tell one of the sides is shorter than the other. It must be less than a millimeter, but somehow you _know_.

They pull back the flaps, and you groan, clenching your teeth into the gag. After a few seconds you realize something is strange. There is no bleeding, no tell-tale trickle of blood down the back of your neck. With how sensitive you are you know it can't be that you simply aren't feeling it. Whatever they'd put in you was keeping your blood (could it even be called blood, now?) from spilling.

And oh god, you can hear another whirring, and you can already tell this one isn't as innocent as the last. It might have been alright if it weren't for the vibration, the _noise_ it made when the blade began to cut a section out of your skull. It didn't even really hurt, maybe there just weren't nerves there, but the _grinding_.

You let out another scream, your throat is beginning to feel raw. Soon, but not soon enough, they're done with their cutting. And another piece of equipment is pushed into you. Again, there is a lack of sensation, you vaguely remember someone saying there are no nerves in the brain. A small mercy, you're sure.

“Neural uplink connected, initializing...”

No no no _no_. You don't want to go through this again. But you don't have a choice. Moments later that world shattering feeling is back, your brain being forced to adapt to another overload of information.

But you _are_ adapting. And as the world comes back there is a sense of calm that wasn't there a moment before. It's changing your mind now as well as your body, and what's left of you can't find the strength to fight it.

“Emotional dampers activated, bpm returning to optimal level.”

You open your eyes again, and though tears are still staining your cheeks, you find there's no need for them anymore. The fear and anguish are fading, slipping away like a dream in the light of morning. You know there will be more pain, of course, more cutting, more... Upgrades.

But there's nothing to fear from that now.

They put your skin back together, and you can feel it stitching together. You suspect you could feel the nanites individually as they worked to close the wound, if you so chose.

The table moves again, laying you down once more, and you remain still as they begin to pull free your gag. There is a moment, brief, where you want to scream again, but it passes, and instead you ask a question, your voice level and controlled.

“How much more?”

One of the doctors gives you a level stare, and you meet it calmly as the others work around you. Blades cut into your arms, along your legs, but you don't flinch.

“Just some adapters, now.” He didn't seem too interested in answering the question. Probably didn't care if you knew. “The uplink in your brain contains a kill-switch. Do you understand what will happen if you do not follow orders?”

You are quiet for a moment, allowing your eyes to take in the doctors around you. When you return your gaze to the doctor you expression hasn't changed. 

“Yes.”

He is threatening to kill you. You don't believe him. There is an excitement around the room, but they are still tense. More than they can afford is riding on the success of this operation. It is far more likely they would simply deactivate you.

“Good.”

You stay silent as he begins to undo the restraints on your head, allowing you to move it as you had before. You watch with interest now as the doctors insert what look like plugs into the holes they have placed along your body. You can feel the nanites connecting your nerves into the equipment. 

There is a jolt as they place something into one of these plugs, and within moments you have all the information you need flashing before your eyes. A small drone.

“Fly it.”

The doctor gives the order in a tone that would have been irritating. You ignore the tone, focusing on what you've been told to do. You can see through the camera on it, displayed across your vision like picture-in-picture television. The camera isn’t as good as the eyes they have given you.

It's as easy as breathing, and soon the drone is flying over towards your body. The camera isn't as good as your eyes, but it allows you to see what they have done. Your eyes are obviously no longer human, the irises silver and constantly shifting, and what should have been white is just black. 

But otherwise, nothing has changed. You look as you always did, and the thought is strange. It is almost impossible to connect yourself to what you see.

The doctors seem content to allow you control of the drone as they finish, and you move it around as if it is an extension of yourself.

Technically, at the moment, it rather literally is.

Eventually, you are released from the bindings, and you can feel the tension as everyone waits to see how you will react. But there is still nothing, no fear, no anger, that can break through into your mind. Any thoughts of hurting them are clinical, and quickly dismissed. It simply doesn't matter.

Unbidden, words rise to your mind, and you say them without thinking.

“Promethean. Prototype model 001 alpha. Online and awaiting command.”


End file.
